


Remember When I Moved in You (the holy dark was moving, too)

by InfiniteBreath



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Character Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, My first 5+1 attempt, My muse has no respect for word limits, This prompt is turning into a monster, WAFF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 04:21:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfiniteBreath/pseuds/InfiniteBreath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the following prompt:</p><p>Mcspirkin asked you: Oh god, I'm horrible for this but: Five times where Spock spend Christmas (however illogical it might be) with people he loved and one time he didn't. /jumps off a cliff</p><p>I'm sorry I wasn't able to finish it in time for Christmas- my muse decided that this prompt needed to be extended into a full length fic type thing that centered on the McSpirk relationship lol. </p><p>Anyways, Merry Christmas! I hope you like it so far. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember When I Moved in You (the holy dark was moving, too)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a 5+1, and the story just kind of evolved into a monster lol. This was originally written for McSpirkin, but I would like to gift this to everyone here on Ao3 reading "Bottom of the World, for keeping me inspired to keep going. Much love and many thanks to each one of you that has taken the time to leave a comment. <3

Spock could not stop staring at the abundance of colored lights and pine garlands strung randomly about the ballroom. He failed to see how such exploitive use of plant life could be considered celebratory for what the Humans termed the _Christmas Spirit_. After the evening’s festivities were over, he knew that every strand of garland would be tossed into the waste receptacle due to the fact that their festive use had been fulfilled.

Spock considered this inevitable fate wasteful and disrespectful.

He promptly turned to his mother, who was currently his only neighbor at the dinner table reserved for their family, to voice this concern. “What is the purpose of harvesting live plant material to use for temporary decoration? How is the intentional destruction of life simply for the sake of amusement considered an act of celebration by Humans?”

Amanda laughed softly and passed a hand over the crown of his head. Spock fought to keep his face expressionless – it would not bode well for his father’s reputation if he failed to present nothing but flawless Vulcan conduct while in public. As much as he secretly appreciated these generous gestures that his mother bestowed to him, Spock knew that she would soon cease such displays of affection on account of his father’s wishes. He would soon complete his fifth year of life cycle, which would mark his time of childhood indulgence over.

“Spock, I don’t believe that Humans intend to harm plant life out of a malicious need. For most Humans, such decorations are treasured due to their short life cycle. People are generally awed by fleeting moments of experience– it often serves to remind them to appreciate trivial moments in their own short life spans. ”

“That is most illogical, mother,” Spock pointed out. “If Humans truly respected the plant life that they harvested for decoration, then they would choose not to carry out the act, or at least find a way to preserve the plants after their decorative use was exhausted.”

“Yes, you do make a good point, my son,” Amanda assured. She gave Spock’s arm a gentle pat and turned her attention back toward the center of the room where countless beings were performing the act of _dancing_ with partners.

Spock couldn’t help but notice the wistful look in his mother’s gentle, brown eyes. He shifted in his over-cushioned seat and scanned the expansive room, noting that his father was currently involved in a conversation with other high ranking officials near the back wall. If Spock made sure to stay close to their table, then perhaps he could indulge in one public display of irrational behavior without invoking his father’s disapproval.

“Mother,” he breathed, fisting his robes, “would it be permissible to request your assistance with an experiment?”

“Of course,” she smiled. “What subject are you researching?”

Spock ran the pad of his thumb over the russet silk covering his elbow. “Father mentioned that it is prudent for me to begin exploring the customs of other species if I am to one day navigate comfortably among my scientific peers.”

“Oh? And just what do you have in mind?”

“I observe a wide variety of species currently engaged in what the Humans refer to as _dancing_. I feel that it would only be logical if I were to participate, if only to familiarize myself with the act.”

“Oh, Spock, are you asking me to _dance_?” Amanda twittered. Her dark eyes were alight with a strange combination of amusement and happiness that she rarely ever displayed in public. The beauteous sight of it ignited something within Spock’s heart, but he kept his face impassive.

“Affirmative.”

“Well, who am I to curtail such an ambitious study of culture?” she smiled. “I would be delighted to _dance_ with you, my son.”

Spock offered his mother a sharp nod and rose to his feet. He walked toward a darkened corner near their table, confident that his father would be too busy in his diplomatic discussions to bother sweeping his gaze around the room. His mother glided over toward his side and lifted the skirt of her cream colored robe as she curtsied.

“It is customary for the male partner to bow at the waist before the _dance_ begins with one arm extended across the abdomen area, and the other across the lower back,” she informed.

“In what position is the head generally held?”

“A soft bow that compliments the one performed with the body is generally the most acceptable.”

“Understood,” Spock commented, and performed the action as described. “Was that attempt sufficient, mother?”

“Yes, “Amanda smiled. “Now, step forward and place one hand at my waist, and the other on the highest part of my arm that you can reach. I will place my hands on your shoulders.”

Spock glanced around and saw many _dancing_ pairs holding hands. He realized that his mother must be making variations to the technique for the sake of his comfort. Spock followed her instructions and looked up expectantly for the next cue.

“Now,” Amanda began, “the music currently playing has a soft, slow rhythm; therefore, your movements should match this overall tone. Each step you take must be gentle, Spock, and you must attempt to relax your gaze and body language if you are to truly gain an understanding of _dancing_.”

“Will you demonstrate an example so that I may observe the technique?”

“Of course,” Amanda offered. She took a small step out to the side, and Spock mimicked her poise. They performed a few more example steps before Spock felt informed enough to try without his mother’s lead.

“Are you prepared to take control of the cadence, Spock?”

“Affirmative,” he replied, and led his mother into his first _dance_ performance. The song their steps were in rhythm with was one unknown to Spock, and it described nocturnal sacredness and the beauty of shining stars.

Soft humming touched Spock’s ears, and he glanced up into his mother’s face and was taken aback by the sheer joy highlighting her countenance. The warmth radiating from her arm filled his hand and slowly spread up his own arm. The clean scent of pine hung heavily in the air, and the sheen of the multi-colored lights were dimly reflected against the cool silk of his mother’s white scarf. Spock could not recall the last time he had felt so at ease while indulging in an irrational act inspired by his mother’s culture.

The smile on his mother’s lips was more than enough incentive to prolong the _dance_ as long as possible. For a few moments, Spock forgot about dishonoring his father and his people. He stared openly at his mother’s aesthetically pleasing face and branded her softness into his memory. He wondered, not for the first time, how her Human tenderness had survived the harsh desert climate of Vulcan.

“You are doing well, Spock,” Amanda whispered. “I do believe your scientific inquiry is successful.”

“Gratitude,” Spock offered, knowing that his mother would appreciate the gesture. The widening of her smile was more than enough to confirm his inference. The song came to an end, and Amanda moved to pull away, but Spock held her in place.

“I would like to make another attempt to solidify my findings. Is this acceptable?”

“Of course, my son.”

Spock offered her a nod and led his mother into another _dance_. He found himself not worrying what his father’s reaction may be if he caught sight of them.

He wasn’t five yet.

~*~

“Nyota, I do not wish to partake of the planned Winter festivities. You are aware that I do not celebrate any Human holidays despite my half-human standing.”

“Oh, come on now, Spock! It’ll be fun, I promise – it’s just a party. It’s not often the cadets are able to get together as a whole and relax.”

Spock watched as Nyota slipped into a heavy, leather coat to guard her against the cold December wind. He could not help but wonder why she had insisted on wearing a short, silk skirt despite the frigid temperature awaiting her outside. He would never understand the matter of ‘High Fashion’ his significant other was so fond of participating in – its rules often called for illogical acts, such as wearing inappropriate clothing for the weather of a particular season.

“Be that as it may,” Spock finally replied, “I have not been a cadet for quite some time. My presence may not be welcome among the student body.”

Nyota laughed, tossing the end of her long ponytail over her shoulder. “Spock, I’m pretty sure that everyone will be too busy drinking and catching up with one another to even notice you.”

Spock barely managed to bite back the sigh dancing on his tongue. The assembled group may not notice him, but he would surely notice _them_ – including all irrational acts performed on account of the excess imbibing of alcohol. He pushed open the glass door of Nyota’s dormitory building and waved her outside. “Perhaps you are right.”

“It’s going to be enjoyable, just wait!” she smiled, pulling the fur-lined hem of her hood over her dark hair. Spock couldn’t help but take a moment to appreciate the bright emotion pulsing in her eyes. Nyota was aesthetically pleasing to look upon.

“I shall endeavor to ‘enjoy’ the occasion.”

“That’s the spirit,” Nyota smiled. There was a flirtatious air skipping along her slim lips, and Spock tilted his head and gave her a bemused look.

“Look up,” Nyota instructed.

Spock did so, and caught sight of a sprig of mistletoe hanging above the doorway they were both standing under. He was about to comment on the waste of healthy plant life when he felt the gentle pressure of lips on his left cheek. He looked down just in time to see the satisfied look that had bloomed on Nyota’s face.

“Merry Christmas, Spock.”

~*~

 _“Attention_ Enterprise _crew. Captain Kirk here: I want to make a ship wide announcement regarding the upcoming Winter holidays – our first official season here on the ship.  I know most of you celebrate…something…during this time of year, and with those celebrations comes decorating a space to suit the occasion. However, I have to kindly request that no one replicates any live plants for this purpose – it’s wasteful to utilize the ship’s resources when those same plants will simply be tossed out after a short time._

_‘I have a highly talented and creative crew – I’m sure that you all will be able to craft inventive substitutions for mistletoe and garland…or whatever you prefer…without the use of live plant material. IF for some reason live plant life is required for a sacred ceremony, I will be glad to approve the replication of live plants via a request form. Please note that if such a request is made and authorized, I will expect for that plant life to be cared for after its use has been fulfilled. If anyone has any questions or concerns, please contact Yeoman Rand to set up an appointment with me to discuss the matter. Kirk out.”_

Spock stared at the speaker with a raised eyebrow. He was pleasantly surprised by the Captain’s unconventional order. Most of the captains he was acquainted with had no problem with allowing the limited resources of the ship to be utilized for replicating live plant material in order to celebrate the Winter Holiday season. But he had come to learn very soon after boarding the _Enterprise_ that Captain James Tiberius Kirk was no ordinary leader.

He set down the thermometer and secured the experimental soil that he was currently testing for extended moisture retention. The Captain’s insistence on not wasting resources had piqued Spock’s scientific attention (he would never admit to owning Human curiosity), and if there was one person who might be able to give him some insight into the matter, besides the Captain himself, it would be Dr. McCoy. As the Captain was currently engaged in the Alpha shift, and would not be free for another six hours, Spock decided that it would only logical that he seek out the doctor.

Spock stilled his steps only a few feet from the lab door when a fit of inspiration had him turning on his heel back toward the soil. He stared at the rich material for a long moment before scooping a small amount into a glass vial and securing the opening with a ribbed lid. Spock locked up his lab area once again and stepped out into the bustling corridor of the laboratory wing, intent on speaking with Dr. McCoy.

He could see that many of the crew members were wearing a mixture of expressions that varied from distress, curiosity, bewilderment, and in some cases, anger. Spock palmed his vial and strode down the hall with his hands clasped behind his back, nodding greetings at the few crewmen who acknowledged his presence. He stepped into the empty turbolift and stood directly in the center.

“Deck nine,” he ordered.

It took 1.78 minutes for the lift to reach the desired destination. Spock stepped out just in time to catch the end of a live video conversation that Dr. McCoy was currently having with Nyota. Luckily, sickbay appeared to be empty save for the crew assigned to the Alpha shift. Nyota was not due for duty until the Beta shift, which Spock would also be working, so he inferred that she was making a call from her personal quarters. Interesting.

 _“You know this isn’t fair, Len! Kirk just can’t do this! Some of us have special memories attached to plant life around this season, like mistletoe. It’s the only time of the year that we can indulge in them. Can’t you talk to him and make him see reason?”_ Spock could clearly see the angry expression that had draped itself over her normally peaceful countenance, and he was surprised to see its appearance.

Leonard sighed and passed a hand over his face. Spock could see the lingering presence of undesirable memories tugging at the corners of the doctor’s mouth. “Jim’s order has nothin’ to do with tryin’ to make people’s lives miserable – he instated it for a reason, Uhura. And don’t ask me to tell you _why_ ‘cause it’s really _none_ of your damn business. Do you really think a few missin’ sprigs of mistletoe is goin’ to ruin the holiday season? Is that what it’s all about for you?”

_“Well…no. But Len –“_

The doctor slammed his hand flat near the side of the communication console. “But nothin’! A dirty gym sock hangin’ from the doorway would be just as good for me so long as I had my friends and family nearby.”

Spock heard Nyota sigh. _“Len, please understand -”_

“I understand just fine,” Leonard barked. “And if Jim’s orders have your panties so knotted up then I suggest you make an appointment to speak to him about how you feel – you know, _like he asked_.”

Leonard punched the button to terminate the call and let his weight fall into the nearest chair. He sighed and dropped his head back against the stiff backboard of the seat, mumbling about insensitive idiots. Spock stepped into the room fully and cleared his throat.

The doctor’s head snapped up and he leveled a guarded look at Spock. “Don’t tell me you’re here to complain, too, you damn hobgoblin. If there was anyone on this rusted over tin can that might understand, and dare I say it, _appreciate_ Jim’s orders of conservin’ life I thought it would be _you_.”

 _“He instated it for a reason, Uhura. And don’t ask me to tell you_ why _‘cause it’s really_ none _of your damn business.”_

Spock decided that his interest would have to be left unsatisfied. The preservation of crew morale was more important. “Then let me assure you, Dr. McCoy, that you are correct in your assessment.” He found himself awed by the intensity which the suspicion immediately fled from Leonard’s hazel eyes.

“Oh, well, that’s…nice to know, Spock. I’m sure Jim will appreciate hearing it as well.”

“Understood, doctor,” Spock intoned. He moved his hand from behind his back and revealed the glass tube in his palm. “I have, in fact, put together a substitute for mistletoe in a show of support of the Captain’s wishes.” He paused. “As I am unaccustomed with the aesthetic expectations that Humans expect from such décor, I came to inquire as to whether my small offering is acceptable.”

The sincere smile that touched Leonard’s lips pulled forth a treasured memory of his mother’s unguarded happiness during a Christmas Ball his family had once attended on Earth. Spock was unprepared for the warmth that moved through every cell of his body in response. He forced his face to remain impassive, but he could feel his heart fluttering wildly within his side.

He would dissect his reaction at a later time in the privacy of his quarters.

“Well, you have a good start there, Mr. Spock,” Leonard offered. He rose from the chair and made his way back into one of the rooms that the staff used to sterilize their equipment. Spock found himself following the doctor’s lead before he realized that he had taken the first step.

Leonard was rifling through a small bin of slim test tubes that the medical department utilized for various practices. He placed two of them, both different sizes, into the autoclave, along with two clear, rubber stoppers. The machine ran for precisely five minutes, after which the doctor selected one and moved over toward the small sink sitting in the corner, and filled the tube halfway with purified water. Spock watched him secure the opening with one of the stoppers before handing it over to him.

“I say we make your offering a theme, Mr. Spock,” Leonard grinned. “You provided the soil, I have offered water.” He plucked the remaining tube and stopper from the sterilizing machine and carefully placed the joined pair into Spock’s hand. “Maybe Jim would like to contribute something as well. Don’t tell him what we have goin’ – let him figure it out.”

Spock watched the doctor reach into the front pocket of his uniform and pull out a small roll of white gauze. “Here’s a little something to tie the whole kit and caboodle together – maybe Jim can make a bow or somethin’ before hangin’ it up somewhere.”

“I shall go present this to the Captain,” Spock commented. He offered Leonard a curt nod as a silent offer of gratitude for his assistance, and tried to ignore the brightness burning in the doctor’s eyes. He was halfway to the main door of the infirmary when the calling of his name stopped him in his tracks. The soft tone of the doctor’s voice held Spock rooted in place, and he found that he could not turn to look at the man.

“I just thought you should know that Jim values life in a way many people don’t.” There was a long pause. “It’s not my story to tell, Spock, but he experienced somethin’ as a child that shaped this perception – he’ll fight to protect all life ‘cause he knows the value of it. Maybe someday he’ll tell you about it.”

“I appreciate the insight that you have given me, Dr. McCoy,” Spock replied. He walked out of sickbay without waiting for a response.

He stepped back into the turbolift and felt a small feeling of satisfaction when he found that it was empty once again. The ride to the bridge took roughly 3.25 minutes, and Spock felt a feeling of uncertainty flare at the base of his spine when he finally stepped out onto the bridge. It was a sensation that he had not experienced since the first time he had entered the bridge area of the _Enterprise_ with the intent of filling the position of First Officer.

The Captain was sitting upright in his chair, and he was wearing a blank expression that didn’t suit his lively face. Tension filled the air with a weight that seemed to push down on the shoulders of every crewman present on the bridge. Spock knew that the moroseness more than likely stemmed from the Captain’s earlier announcement.

The sound of the doors closing drew the Captain’s attention. “Spock? I thought you were working the Beta shift.”

Spock walked over toward the Captain and stood beside the man’s chair. “Good day, Captain,” he offered, clasping his hands, and his offering, behind his back. “I am indeed scheduled to work the Beta shift. I have come to thank you for your effort to preserve the ship’s resources, and in turn, the plant life that would have gone to waste for frivolous reasons.”

He noted that his words inspired some of the weariness to leave the Captain’s eyes.

“Spock, I appreciate your support, but you really didn’t have to come here during your time off,” the Captain smiled. Spock witnessed a spark flare up in the man’s eyes, highlighting the unique blue hue of his irises. He ignored the way the sight seemed to draw forth the warmth he had experienced earlier when presented with Dr. McCoy’s smile.

“I assure you, Captain, that my doing so is of no consequence.” He unclasped his hands and presented the unfinished substitute collaboration. “I have conferred with Dr. McCoy, and he and I have joined efforts to offer a substitute for mistletoe.” He placed the vials into the Captain’s hands. “One of the glass tubes is empty – Dr. McCoy suggested that you might perhaps like to add something to our collaboration before displaying it, Captain.”

The Captain’s lips slowly turned up into a smile that was a clear display of concentrated happiness. Spock noted that the lingering sadness clinging to his Captain’s face instantly evaporated. He found himself wondering how he could be affected by such a simple sight, and decided that he was due for a meditation session.

“Well, that was thoughtful of him,” the Captain chuckled. He turned the vials over in his hand. “Let’s see, we have soil and water already present – two basic things needed to nurture plant life on Earth. So what seems to be missing, from my point of view, is sunlight and carbon dioxide – I think I can improvise.”

Spock looked on as the Captain set the two filled vials in his lap before plucking a strand of blond hair from his head and dropping it into the empty container. He then took a deep breath and exhaled into the test tube, immediately covering it with the rubber stopper so that the exhaled air could not escape.

“There, that’s perfect,” the Captain commented. His nimble fingers made quick work of the gauze that the doctor had supplied, and before Spock could finish following the man’s movements, the Captain had securely tied the three tubes together with an intricate bow.

Spock will never admit to losing his breath when the Captain finally lifted his head and gazed upon him with blue eyes blazing with happiness.  

“I know just where to put this! Will you help me out, Spock? You’re taller than me.”

The Captain jumped up from his seat and walked over to the doorway of his Ready Room. He turned toward Spock. “There’s a loose screw near the center of the door frame – we should be able to poke a hole in the gauze and use it as a makeshift hook of sorts. Just make sure and wrap the gauze around the head several times so that the material doesn’t rip and we end up with a shattered mistletoe on the floor.”

Spock followed the Captain’s instructions and made sure the substitute mistletoe was secure before stepping away.

“That’s absolutely perfect,” the Captain breathed, turning bright eyes toward Spock. “Thank you for your support in my request.”

He clasped Spock on the shoulder and gave it a light squeeze – to the crewmen the gesture seemed like one of camaraderie, appreciation. However, what they could not see was the way the Captain had curled the pinkie finger of his free hand around Spock’s. He gave the trapped digit a light squeeze before stepping away, and Spock once again found every cell of his body enveloped in warmth.

He had much to meditate on.


End file.
